


i'll take on any man here

by izzetboilerworks



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 18:56:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17269229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzetboilerworks/pseuds/izzetboilerworks
Summary: Corey doesn’t agree with the increased security, but ever since the death threats, the Dodgers have insisted upon it





	i'll take on any man here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luciferinasundaysuit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferinasundaysuit/gifts).



> thanks to tsb. for the beta. 
> 
> title is from protection by massive attack.

Corey doesn’t agree with the increased security, but ever since the death threats, the Dodgers have insisted upon it. He gets annoyed at being flanked by security all the time; even post game interviews tend to be something of a nuisance and he wonders if it would just be better to do nothing at all. And it’s enough, really, until someone doxxes him and publicly shares his home address and cell phone number. Same with his brother’s and their parents’s address too; are all revealed on social media and retweeted hundreds, thousands of times—until they’re finally deleted.

Corey knows enough about the internet to know that nothing’s really gone, though, and the front office insists on more security—which is why he finds himself face to face with a man who introduces himself as Corey’s bodyguard. He’s a little older, with silvered hair and an unhappy set to his mouth, eyes hidden by a pair of sunglasses.

Corey’s been—mostly—ostracized already. The bodyguards and overprotection mean he doesn’t go out much. Home, ballpark, gym—repeat _ad infinitum_. Not that he was really doing much beyond that, but at least he sometimes went to dinner with some of the other younger guys, just trying to be friendly, a good teammate.

The bodyguard, who’d introduced himself by his last name—Utley—and flashed his badge, is no-nonsense. He doesn’t smile and he doesn’t take his eyes off of Corey. Corey’s spied the sleek and shiny hilt of his gun tucked into his waistband, though he hasn’t had to use it yet, and he wonders if he should be frightened even though Utley’s there to protect him.

It’s troubling.

Corey can’t help but hate the feeling of constantly being watched; it’s different when it’s not on a baseball diamond. He hates that Utley has to carefully open up his mail to make sure there’s nothing in there that’s dangerous. Corey gets a special dispensation to go out, just a few drinks with Cody and Chris, when they have a day off. Corey demands it, because he has to release some kind of pressure valve or he’ll lose it.

Utley is silent, watchful, looking between his phone and the guy that Corey is grinding up on with a deeper and deeper frown. Cody and Chris are chatting up girls, but they’d joined him on the dance floor too, and it feels like a mess. Corey doesn’t realize until it’s too late that he’s been separated from everyone. Picked off like the weakest wildebeest.

“Thought you could do with some time away,” his new friend says, and they slip out the back door. 

It’s liberating, really, to be out from under Utley’s watchful eye. And in the back alley, there’s no one there to tell him what he's doing wrong. There are a few more people at the end of the alley, but he doesn’t pay them a lot of mind.

He regrets this decision quickly, as the guy pushes him against the wall and the others approach them. Corey doesn’t really know what’s going on, but the pretty smile that had been on the guy’s face suddenly dissolves into a scowl and the blow he’s too slow to cover his face for knocks him near stupid.

He can feel his vision swimming, blood gushing down the front of his face. He can hear them talking—vile and hateful—but he can’t quite make the words out as his skull is still ringing. He braces for another blow, but it doesn’t come, and he cautiously opens his eyes.

Utley is there, throwing the first guy to the ground and aiming a solid kick to his ribs, the guy makes a near inhuman sound of pain. Corey watches, fascinated, as they gang up on Utley. If he could get his head to stop swimming he’d help, but it doesn’t look needs any help.

By the time Corey’s head has cleared, Utley has the second one wrestled to the ground. His sunglasses have been knocked askew and his lip is split, but he quickly has all three of them down. There’s a gash in his suit coat, red staining the tan fabric, and Corey covers his nose. The bleeding has slowed to a trickle and it’s not broken, thank God.

Corey wipes his bloodied hand on his jeans.

“Are you okay?” Chase asks as he takes his sunglasses off. The arm is bent and one of the lenses is busted. Chase has the most breathtakingly blue eyes that Corey has ever seen. He pockets the sunglasses.

“Me?” Corey’s voice squeaks in a way he doesn’t mean it to. His voice sounds funny anyways, like he’s congested. Utley steps forward and wipes blood from Corey’s chin. Corey feels his stomach do a strange flip flop. He doesn’t know what it means.

Scratch that—he _does know_ and that’s the problem.

“I’m okay.” Corey says since Utley is—looking at him. Looking at his face for signs of damage. Corey checks the situation and tries to not think of how his nose throbs. But it’s nothing close to how his cock throbs, too, and he has to shake it off.

Corey backs away from Utley and waves him off.

“I’m fine, I promise. Are _you_ okay?” Corey chances looking at Utley once more as he straightens the cuffs of his jacket out, cool and unbothered. There’s some slight color on his cheeks and Corey is—curious about that.

“Yeah,” Utley says with a rough exhale. 

But Corey thinks maybe there’s something else going on and he’s going to get to the bottom of it.


End file.
